Chapter 3

After the plea, before Olivia's bombshell, Chloe had played the role of the concerned fiancée perfectly.

"Ethan, you're out on bail, thank God," she'd said, her arm linked through mine as we left the courthouse that first day. "Let's go home."

Home. Our upscale Manhattan apartment.

The moment the door opened, the stench of unfamiliar cologne hit me.

It was strong, musky, not Derek's usual light citrus scent. Something new, something trying too hard.

The minimalist decor I favored – clean lines, muted colors – was gone.

Replaced by gaudy, ostentatious furnishings. Gold accents, plush velvet in jewel tones. It screamed new money, bad taste.

Our photos, the ones capturing years of shared history, were nowhere to be seen.

Instead, framed pictures of Chloe and Derek were everywhere. Chloe and Derek laughing on a beach. Chloe and Derek at a fancy dinner. Chloe and Derek kissing.

My stomach churned.

"What is all this, Chloe?" I asked, keeping my voice even.

She feigned a sigh. "Oh, Ethan, I'm so sorry. With Derek's precarious health, his emotional instability... he needed a more cheerful environment. He's been staying here. I didn't want to worry you."

My belongings, I soon discovered, were not in our closets or drawers.

"They're in a storage unit, darling," Chloe said airily. "Just to make more space for Derek's things. He has so many medical supplies, you understand."

I understood perfectly.

I was being erased.

The bedroom, my bedroom, was now clearly Derek's. His clothes, expensive and flashy, filled the closet. His toiletries littered the en-suite bathroom.

My things, what little she hadn't already disposed of, were stuffed into a cheap suitcase in the corner of the living room, like a guest who had overstayed his welcome.

Chloe offered more flimsy excuses. "Derek needed the master suite for his recovery. The doctor insisted."

The news of my "confession" was trending on every news site, every social media platform.

Chloe, when I pointed this out, admitted she'd leaked it.

"I had to, Ethan," she said, her eyes wide with feigned sincerity. "To protect Derek from further scrutiny. He's been through so much."

"I see," I said, nodding slowly. "You did what you had to do."

She visibly relaxed, believing my feigned understanding.

That night, with Chloe asleep in what used to be our guest room, and Derek snoring softly in my old bed, I made a call.

A discreet call to Olivia Hayes.

A call I knew would change everything.

"Olivia," I said softly into the phone, "it's Ethan Miller. We need to talk."

A pause, then her voice, cool and steady. "I've been expecting your call, Ethan."